Colors
by Verassi
Summary: Shouto had always thought he was too similar to his father; Izuku is determined to to show him how different they really were.


AN: Okay, so this is my official contribution for Tododeku week. I've no idea what the prompts were or any of that, but I wanted to do something for this week, so I wrote up this one-shot. I don't do fluff often, I'm not very good at it, but I tried. Hope you enjoy!

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The dorms were quiet, as they always were at three in the morning on a school night. Shouto was grateful for that fact, he didn't want to interact with anyone right now. He needed some time to be alone. Usually, his room would offer sanctuary, but right now, it just reminded him too much of home, with the traditional japanese style he had decorated it in. It wasn't that he hated his room, quite the contrary, he liked how it looked, but right now, it just brought back unpleasant memories… memories of his father.

He didn't want to think about any of it, his thoughts were all over the place and muddled, making it impossible to think clearly, so he had stolen away from his room and headed to the bathroom.

The bathroom was empty, which made sense considering the time. Here he could clear his head, wash away his worries. Going to the sink, he turned on the water and tried to clear his head.

It worked until he caught his gaze in the mirror and flinched. He hadn't meant to look up, the last thing he wanted to see right now was his reflection; he hated his appearance. He looked… odd. He knew that his appearance wasn't common, with his half white half red hair, and heterochromatic eyes of gray and blue—a perfect split down the middle. His right side was just like his mother… while his left side reminded him of his father. The scar that marred his face didn't help matters.

He looked away quickly, scowling as he left the bathroom, forgetting what he had originally gone in there for. He still didn't want to go back to his dorm so, instead, he opted to go to the common room on the first floor, it was sure to be empty at this hour, and hopefully, he could find some peace of mind there—anything to take his thoughts away from himself.

Upon entering the commons area, he noticed he wasn't as alone as he thought he would be.

"Midoriya? What are you doing here?" he questioned. It was three in the morning, no one else should be up, and yet, here was Midoriya quietly sitting on one of the couches in the commons area.

"Oh, ah," Midoriya started, obviously startled by the presence of another person at this hour, "Hi, Todoroki, I was just-you know, making some tea…" he held up a cup of the aforementioned tea awkwardly. "What about you, why are you up at this hour?"

Shouto noticed how he changed the subject, but didn't comment, instead he sat next to Midoriya on the couch and turned away from him. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep… too many thoughts."

"I feel that," Midoriya commented, a slight mirthless laugh escaping. "Sometimes it's nice to just take a break from everything, not think about anything, you know?"

Shouto nodded, he did understand that feeling. Sometimes if his thoughts got to be too much he needed to just take a step back and not think about it—which was what he was currently doing. "Yeah.."

"Is… there something wrong, Todoroki?" His voice sounded so concerned, "I know you're not, exactly, a touchy-feely person, but if something's bothering you, you can tell me, you know that, right?"

Shouto knew he could trust Midroya. He was a friend, and he wouldn't belittle Shouto's fears or thoughts in any way, but he was still reluctant. Nevertheless, he _did_ want to talk about this, it had always bothered him, and maybe Midoriya could help him sort through his thoughts. Against his better judgement, he found himself speaking.

"I just hate that I look like him, even if it's only half of my face." Shouto lowered his head, unable to look at Midoriya. "When I look in the mirror, sometimes all I see is him… I can't stand it," he bit out.

There was a beat in which no one said anything, and Shouto regretted having spoken at all.

"Todoroki, look at me," Midoriya said finally, there was an edge in his voice as he spoke, waiting for Shouto to comply.

Reluctantly, he looked up to meet wild green eyes, staring intently at him. Usually, such an intent, stern look set Shouto on edge, elicited some internal defiance in him, but Midoriya's eyes held a softness in them, something ghosted through those green orbs, a spark of determination that refused to go out.

"You look nothing like him. You're two completely different people," Midoriya said with such earnesty and conviction that Shouto almost, _almost_ believed him.

He wrinkled his heterochromatic eyes, hope, flitting through gray, but doubt streaming across blue. "I have his eye, his hair, and this scar," he gestured to the left side of his face, "all of it-it just reminds me of him."

He needed Midoriya to understand—to see what he saw. How could he not see the resemblance? His left side was practically a photocopy of Endeavor, minus the scar.

A perplexed look ran across Midoriya's features, "Hm, I don't see it."

Shouto gave him a pointed look, shifting positions on the couch to meet Midoriya's eyes. He was irritated, frustrated even with Midoriya's blatant refusal to understand him. "How can you not see the resemblance?" He couldn't help but let a little bit of his frustration filter into his voice, though he managed to keep it at a low hiss rather than a shout.

There's a glint in his green eyes now, a shine full of wonder with a hint of mischievous nature that shadowed over everything. "I suppose if you're an outsider... there are some," Midoriya stressed the word 'some', "similarities, but there's a distinct difference."

Shouto wasn't sure what he was getting at. He knew that logically there are several differences in their appearances, but the way Midoriya said it, it was as though he couldn't believe that he would even entertain the idea that they looked similar at all.

Warily he questioned, "And what would that difference be?"

Midoriya smiled. It was a genuine smile that lit up the room and made Shouto feel safer, appreciated, and important. When Midoriya smiled, he didn't feel so alone anymore. "Endeavor has blue eyes, like your left eye, yes. However, for as striking as they are, they're impossibly cold. They pierce through you, and look down on everything." He scowled, as if the thought of Endeavor discontented him. Shouto didn't blame him if it did.

"Your eyes are different. When I see your eyes, I don't see colors," a pensive look crossed his face, "That probably doesn't make sense, but it's like when I look into your eyes I see so much more. Your eyes tell a story; they're bright, yet clouded. Hopeful, yet distant. They're melancholic, yet cheerful."

Shouto didn't know what to think of this, nobody had ever complimented his eyes before; he had only ever heard murmurs of how odd they were.

"Your eyes aren't merely gray and blue. They're the sky when it's at its brightest, fog sifting through the air in the mornings—water, churning about in a turbulent sea. There's so much more in your eyes than their color. Endeavor doesn't have that; his eyes are boring. Yours, though, yours are expressive, manic, and free. A mere description of gray and blue isn't accurate. They roll like clouds, thunderous and proud, a stormy directness side by side with a clear, exuberant hope. That's what I see when I look into your eyes," he finished proudly.

Only after he had finished did he realize what he had said, and a blush flushed across his face. He covered it with his hands and looked away. "I-I'm sorry, that was probably too much."

He didn't understand why, but he felt better, "No… I think-I think I understand. Thank you."

There was an awkward silence, filled with Shouto not knowing what to do, and Midoriya fidgeting on the couch.

Shouto was a little lost for words. He didn't know what to think of this. His appearance had always been a sore spot for him, because of how weird he thought he looked, and how half of his face resembled Endeavors… but to hear Midoriya say such kind words, complimenting him with such conviction, it had thrown him for a loop. He sighed contently, letting Izuku's words really sink in.

"You know," Midoriya started, voice low, "I probably don't have much room to talk, since I can—and do—hide mine, but your scar is nothing to be ashamed of."

Shouto turned his head to Midoriya, to see him fidgeting with the sleeve on his right arm, the sleeve that covered most of his scars.

He sat quietly, wondering where Midoriya was going with this once more.

Midoriya sat there for a moment, not saying anything, and Shouto was just about to ask him what he meant when Midoriya heaved a sigh.

His voice rang of resignation, "When I first saw them on my hands I thought, 'This is permanent, how could I do this to myself? How am I supposed to hide this?' I didn't like looking at them because every time I saw them it was a reminder of the damage done, of my own failures and ineptness." His voice was thick with emotion.

"Then," he looked up at Shouto, determination in his eyes and voice, "one day I looked at them and I didn't-I didn't hate them. I realized that they were just another part of me. They weren't a mistake, nor a hindrance to me. They made me who I was, and if it wasn't for those scars… I may not have been able to save Kouta… or-or get through to you."

The implication struck Shouto hard. He had never thought of things like that before. It wasn't the same though, his scar wasn't something he gave to himself. It had been given to him because of who he was, who he looked like.

"That-that's nice, Midoriya, but this," he gestured to his scar, "isn't some battle scar that I got saving someone. This is…" he lowered his head, not wanting to tell his closest friend what had happened for a second time. It shouldn't matter, Midoriya knew the story, but he couldn't bring himself to do it right now.

"I know."

The words were simple, but they held so much conviction and… pain in them that it startled Shouto. He looked up to see Midoriya was no longer looking at him; his gaze was focused ahead, a far away look in his porcelain eyes.

"I know it's not the same, and I don't want to compare my scars to yours, they're completely different. My scars are mine. They're a part of me, just as yours are a part of you," he sighed. "What I meant was that you can't keep hating yourself for them. They may hurt or burn when you think of them, but that won't change what they are. The only person that can change the meaning for them is you."

Shouto understood where Midoriya was coming from, he really did, but… it wasn't the same, and Midoriya didn't understand—it frustrated, and even angered him a little. Midoriya's scars had come from himself, they had come from him being reckless, Shouto's had come from his mother… because he _looked_ just like Endeavor, and _he hated that_. It wasn't the same. This scar that tainted his face was on display for the world to see, to show them just how much he looked like his father. Midoriya could never understand that.

"It's easy for you to say, when you can just hide them," he barked out, not noticing how Midoriya flinched at the accusation and gripped his right arm. "Your scars don't mar your face. They aren't on display for the whole world to see!" Tears were burning at his eyes, but he ignored that for now, and he stood up from the couch. He just wanted Midoriya to understand. "It's different for you-you don't have giant burn scar disfiguring your face," he huffed out, chest heaving.

He expected a backlash, hurt or anger to flare through those green eyes, not the utter heartbreaking look he received.

"You don't—" his voice was thick with emotion, "you don't actually believe that, do you?"

Startled, Shouto blinked away his tears, "Of course I do, it's the truth. People see me, and they see the scar, and all they can picture is horror. How could anyone see my face and not imagine the horrible circumstances that must have occured for my face to become so… marred—"

"That's not… Todoroki, you can't say that, it's not—"

"It is. People see my face, they see the eyes, the hair, and they think of Endeavor. I mean, who else would they see. I've practically been branded as his spitting image, even by my own mom."

Midoriya stood up from the couch, crossing his arms in defiance, gazing intently into his eyes, "No," his tone was stern, leaving no room for debate.

Shouto took a step back, unsure what he meant, "No?"

Midoriya shook his head firmly, maintaining eye contact, "No," he repeated, "that's not right. You're not Endeavor, not even close."

"But I look just like—"

"Who cares what you look like?" he blurted out, frustration evident in his voice. "Anyone who knows you—knows Shouto," that was the first time Midoriya had ever called him by his given name, "could tell you you're nothing like that flaming waste of space." Shouto smiled slightly, both because of the fact that Midoriya had called him by his name and the dig at Endeavor.

Midoriya crossed his arms, giving Shouto a stern look. Shouto was surprised by the outburst, but he didn't disagree with Midoriya's sentiments.

"I suppose—"

"No," Midoriya cut him off again, "Endeavor is a hero to the public, that's all. There's nothing else noteworthy about him, besides his status. He's nothing but trash with a fire quirk. You, however, are so much more than who you look like. Your fire burns brightly within you. It sparks to life when you ignite it, and warms everything around it. You don't let labels get in the way of what you want, and you follow your own path, instead of trying to be someone you're not."

The words seemed to come easy to Midoriya, as if he didn't even have to think about them before he said them.

"You stand proudly, fighting for what you believe in, and you don't let others sway you. It's admirable, you know." Midoriya avoided gazing directly in his eyes as he said it. "You hold both a warmness and coldness to you."

"That's because my quirk—"

Midoriya was determined to not let him finish any of his sentences right now it seemed, "That's not what I meant. When I look at you, I see a steely determination to achieve your goals, but I also see a tenderness, a kindness that gives me ease. I know you wouldn't leave me behind, or anyone; when I look at you, all I see is a the makings of a true hero. The same can't be said for Endeavor."

Shouto stood, gaping at Midoriya, not sure what to say.

"So maybe your left side is the same as Endeavor's, but just remember, that there's so much more to you than that. You're so much more than that."

They stood there, not saying anything for a beat, the tension in the air was tangible. Shouto wasn't willing to break the silence; he didn't have anything to say. Midoriya always had just the right words to render him speechless.

Reluctantly, Shouto sank back into the couch. Just when he thought he had things figured out, Midoriya came along and managed to turn his world view on its head. It was odd, how he was always able to help him even when he didn't know he needed it, but not unwelcome.

Nothing was said, but Midoriya sat back down as well.

The room had gone quiet, reminding the both of them that it was still ridiculously early, and they shouldn't stay much longer.

"Well," Midoriya started, looking a little lost.

"Yeah," Shouto offered awkwardly, "We should-it's pretty late, and we're not supposed to be here…" he finished lamely.

Midoriya nodded, starting to get up, "It's pretty late, so I think I'm going to head back up to my room, but just…"

"Thank you, Midoriya, for everything." The words didn't seem like enough, but Midoriya beamed at them.

"Of course! You're my friend."

Shouto remained on the couch long after Midoriya left, letting this words sink in. He still wasn't used to the idea of having friends, especially not ones like Midoriya. He had never been complimented on his looks before, only ever having heard that he looked 'weird' or 'odd'.

He had never liked how he looked before, never liked who he was, thinking it was too similar to the one person he absolutely did not want to be like. Then Midoriya had come and changed everything, once again, and left him standing there, questioning who he was.

He wasn't his father, he knew that, but maybe now he could start believing it.

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I hope you enjoyed that! Special thanks to Rzen for being amazing and helping out with editing this, you're really somefin else! This will probably be the only thing I contribute to Tododeku week, as I'm already backed up on other stuff, but I just wanted to see how this went.

Until Next time,

Vera~


End file.
